


Allegro

by attaccabottoni



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, You can't make V play Paganini's Caprice No. 24 as a taunt in the game and not expect me to nerd out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attaccabottoni/pseuds/attaccabottoni
Summary: His heart pounded in his chest as he watched Vergil slowly lift his gaze from a spot on the floor in front of the torn and ravaged couch, to settle on him.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78





	Allegro

Eva wouldn’t have married a demon if she wasn’t observant. Spotting incoming problems to head them off has become second nature to her early into motherhood. Though she wasn’t expecting an idyllic life, far from it, her household hasn’t been in want of peace. It was only that a troubling trend has become very clear to her in recent days.

Her son was avoiding her.

She hadn’t heard Dante and Vergil fighting, nor has she seen Dante sulking alone as he was wont to do when Vergil gives his twin the cold shoulder. That meant that her presence was the one that Vergil seemed to take great pains of eschewing. Whatever the matter is, Eva would not waste a single second letting things stand.

Vergil was where she expected him to be at this time of the day. She could already hear strains of familiar music before she entered the sun parlor. The sweet sound abruptly cut off moments after she opened the door, however. Her chest clenched at the sight of her son scrambling from where he was seated on the floor to hurriedly turn off the record player.

Not expecting the reaction, she threw her plan to ask Vergil to speak with her out of the window as she drew nearer to him. “I didn’t mean to bother you, Vergil. You can keep listening if you want to.” Smiling, she held up the sewing basket she brought with her. “I’ll just be quietly mending some socks by the sofa.”

In three efficient moves, Vergil took out the record from the player, placed it back in its sleeve and returned it to the shelf. The sight of his straight back, usually filling her with pride, now filled her with dread that her son would not even face her. “I should go. I need to get back to my studies.”

Sensing Vergil was keen to leave, she attempted to make herself sound as if she wasn’t finding his behavior concerning. “I heard you practicing [Brahms](https://open.spotify.com/track/6eF2ezWE3F03YiNnwgW3lo) in your room the other day. Is that why you were listening to the record? That piece is my favorite.”

Since receiving his violin two years ago, Vergil was no less determined to excel at it now that he was six years old. But instead of softening him to extend their conversation, Vergil stiffened further. It was clear from his forbidding expression that he did not anticipate her noticing.

She had to find a way to make him stay in her company. She put down her sewing basket on the side table and gently placed her hands on his shoulders. “Why don’t you practice here?”

He studiously kept his gaze to a point somewhere above her ear. “It’s not good enough yet.”

She spoke with cheer that she did not feel. “Vergil, honey, it’s fine. Dante hasn’t even learned a single piano piece yet. Your playing doesn’t have to be perfect for me to like it.”

When he finally met her eyes, the look he gave her was of pure betrayal. Before she could even draw breath in alarm, Vergil, her well-mannered and respectful son, shot out from under her hands and quickly ran from the parlor, slamming the door shut in his wake.

* * *

“Those were the precise words you told him?”

“I wouldn’t forget.” Her pacing belied her fraying nerves. “I’ve seen how he is with you. He’s never like this.”

Sparda put down the pen and closed his research notes to signal his undivided attention. “Eva, darling, you have to understand that Vergil is growing up. He’s only like that because when you’re around, he feels very conscious of himself.”

Eva whirled to glare at her husband with indignation. She was already so wound up before she entered Sparda’s study, that she couldn’t help but raise her voice. “Why would he be shy around me? I’m his mother! He knows I’ve wiped his bottom countless times for him!”

“That’s precisely why.”

Pain lanced her chest. She gracelessly dropped herself on the alcove seat by the window, wringing her hands in utter helplessness. “I don’t understand.”

Sympathy shaped her husband’s smile as he got up and walked towards her. “Remember when the twins were three, and I made a mistake of teaching them the cycle of life?”

She knew Sparda was trying to make her feel less wretched by bringing up a light-hearted memory, so she slowly nodded despite her confusion.

“Remember when I, seeking to illustrate the difference between predator and prey, brought them to the garden to show how the small birds eat worms? Then Dante, our rambunctious child who can’t seem to stay clean and likes all manner of tales about monsters and fighting, started to cry over the eaten worm? That it may seem like a fact of life to us, but to him, he couldn’t accept that the worm was dead and gone forever?”

It was such a vivid memory, that the sheer ridiculousness of it tugged the corners of her lips. “He was upset because we didn’t care that the worm died. It took us the better half of a day to calm him down.”

“In the same vein, it may seem like a hobby to you, but Vergil takes his violin playing very seriously.”

Her hands clenched on her lap. “I know that! Does Vergil think I don’t care?”

“It’s not the kind of care that he is looking for. For Dante, it’s easy. All he needs from you is to pay attention to him. For Vergil, it’s not enough to give him attention. He needs to feel like he’s earned it.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything to earn it! He’s my son!”

“He is also not going to be a boy forever,” Sparda reminded her, the firmness in his voice gentled by the understanding that lined his eyes. “It’s good that he’s learning to work for what he wants, which in this case is to be able to play your favorite sonata.”

Eva bowed her head, and made a conscious effort to loosen her fists. “Then what was wrong with what I said?”

“If I know him, he wanted to make it perfect for you, as a gift. Then when he heard your words, it was as if you were telling him that he can’t do it. That all his efforts to practice are useless, because he can’t do better than Dante.”

She stared aghast at Sparda. “How could he think that? I love them both equally.”

He faced her gaze with his solid warmth. “But they’re not the same person, are they?”

Tightly shutting her eyes couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Blindly, she reached for her husband, who gathered her in his arms.

Through the constriction of her throat, she forced herself to ask, “Am I a bad mother?”

Sparda smoothed down her hair with slow strokes. “Of course not. If you were, you wouldn’t be hurt when your own son doesn’t seem to trust that you love him. And before you even ask, Vergil loves you, or he wouldn’t want to be the perfect son.”

“But he’s already my perfect, beautiful boy.”

“You can’t mother your way into his heart, Eva. Give him space. He will come to you when he is ready, and not before.”

* * *

When Vergil asked to accompany him in visiting his old home in Red Grave, Nero didn’t think at all before quickly agreeing. Clearly he had no idea what he got himself into, because when they entered the remains of what used to be a beautiful manor, it felt like a cold pit swapped places with his stomach.

It wasn’t the house that made him feel that way. And by this time, he had already gotten used to being around Vergil, and the almost tangible presence he gave out as simple as breathing. But once they were inside, it was as if Vergil turned insubstantial without any outward indication.

It didn’t make sense to Nero at all. He thought he knew enough about Vergil. His father, the demon who took his arm and unleashed destruction on a city. His father, the warrior who fought beside him as V, and the warrior who also fought against him. His father, the man who stood with enviable straight-backed grace, but didn’t seem to know how to lounge when in Nico’s van and insisted on slouching forward with an appalling posture.

The proud and stern mien was absent now. Vergil took in everything with a blank look on his face, and all Nero could think about was how much he hated it.

Looking for something to occupy his hands, he wandered off from the great hall to a sun-lit room, and spied a familiar object near some dusty shelves.

He had very little nostalgia associated with childhood, but music is one of them. His unease quickly melted into warmth as he made short work of browsing the items before him.

When he heard Vergil’s footsteps approaching, he latched on the first thing he could think of saying to end the oppressive silence between them since they arrived.

“I wouldn’t have thought I’d find a record player here.”

Given the obvious age of the records, he took care in handling them as he brought out the ones with covers he wanted to read carefully before putting them back.

“It’s a pretty extensive collection you got. They all look like they’re still in good condition.”

Nero couldn’t help letting his excitement color his voice as he continued go through more shelves.

“Kyrie would love these opera recordings. Do you think we could bring some back to…”

He trailed off when he glanced behind him and realized Vergil wasn’t even looking at him. What should have been his heated irritation at being ignored was frozen by that feeling of teetering uncertainty that his father seemed to be disappearing before his very eyes.

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched Vergil slowly lift his gaze from a spot on the floor in front of the torn and ravaged couch, to settle on him.

To his relief, his father sought to meet his eyes.

“If you’re not taking that for yourself, you should give that to Dante.”

Nero blinked, and looked down at the Bob Dylan record in his hand. “He likes this sort of music, too, huh?”

Vergil went to stand beside him by the shelves and unerringly pulled out a record with practiced ease. There was a pause where he stared intently at the cover, before he handed it to Nero. “This was your grandmother’s favorite. I haven’t been able to match your grandfather’s skill at the piano, but I could keep up on the violin well enough to play this with him.”

His mouth fell open. To further his amazement, Vergil kept gazing at him expectantly as he shifted from one foot to the other, like he was fighting to keep himself from fidgeting. 

Nero has received very few gifts in his lifetime, but in the span of an exchange that barely took a minute, his father has given him more of himself than Nero has ever thought of getting. The most precious thing was the open invitation he held now.

It was all he could do to keep the fireworks of emotion in his chest from showing up on his face. Nero grinned and managed to keep his voice from cracking. “I only know how to play the guitar, but I’m sure we could figure something out. If we make the arrangements to get you a violin you could use, you could come to Fortuna and we could do a musical session sometime.”

Vergil smiled. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanons time!
> 
> If you haven’t clicked the link in the story, it’s Brahms's Violin Sonata No. 3 in D minor, Op. 108 first movement: Allegro. I could just imagine Eva hearing her love story with Sparda in that piece, and Sparda having fun playing it on the piano.
> 
> Basing it on what we know of V from the game and the manga, I theorize Vergil hates music made post-1960 like the young fogey that he is. He is also the sort of precocious child that would attempt to master an eight-minute violin sonata that his mother likes.
> 
> Dante likes listening to songs and would rather learn how to play them, and since Eva was talking to Vergil, she was referring to the fact that Dante hasn’t learned how to play a single piece for classical piano. At six years old, Dante could play some jazz that Vergil would like, but what Vergil aspired to at the time was to be able to play classical pieces on the violin along with Sparda on the piano, much to Dante’s dismay.
> 
> Nero, on the other hand, listens to what he would call old timey music along with modern music, and so even if he’s young, I think he could appreciate Bob Dylan. It would also be the sort of record that Eva and Sparda would own, and Dante would like. (There’s a bonus Dante Alighieri reference in Dylan’s Tangled Up In Blue.)
> 
> Lastly, Vergil feels shy with no more than two people: Eva and Nero.


End file.
